The Wolf and the Dove
by Amateur Sketch
Summary: A runaway with no one to turn to, finds a safe place in a forgotten hero. - Prequel to The Black Wolf [Revolver/Redemption crossover] [Red Harlow/OC]


**Don't mind me, I'm just over here posting another story I can't keep up with. **

**Novella type fic. Expect slow updates.**

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**Song: **_Catch Me If You Can ~ _Jess Moskaluke

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**The Wolf **

**and**

**The Dove**

**Chapter One:**

**The Runaway**

**November 1892**

The mule gave a whinny as his rider spurred his sides harder. A young woman looked over her shoulder and felt her breath hitch as a gang of bandits were quickly gaining on her. She gave the mule another kick in the side and cried for him to go faster, knowing that his energy was fading fast. If she kicked him anymore, he'd more than likely buck her off.

Hooves drummed across the land, splashing through a stream, and kicking up grass and mud. The men were close enough now that she could hear what they were saying. They ordered her to stop and threatened to do unspeakable acts to her if she didn't. Her heart was beating wildly, and she thought for a moment she'd kill over. Sweat lathered her poor mount, but she kept pushing him.

When she left home days ago, she knew there was possibility trouble would find her but she never thought it would be this bad. She could handle an outlaw or two not seven of them.

Strawberry wasn't far. If her mule could last a bit longer…

"Come on, Lucky, we have to keep pushing."

Without her control, her mount veered off into the trees. She remembered mules could handle rougher terrain than horses and hoped that maybe she could lose those men in the trees. Needles scratched her face and arms as her steed pushed his way through the forest. To her surprise, he jumped a bolder and kept going. When this was over, if they got out of it alive, she would give him a treat.

The silver moon above provided very little light as the forest grew thicker and darker, making navigation difficult. She worried her loyal mount would trip injure himself. Reaching into her saddlebag, she found a vial of horse stimulant. Taking the injection, she stabbed it into the mount's neck. Within seconds, the mule came to life with new vigor. She didn't like giving him the injections, but the men on their trail were relentless. She wondered for a moment if these men were doing it to frighten her.

They broke free from the woods and turned right on the road. Strawberry had to be close by. As they continued down towards town, the path became slick with mud, forcing her to slow her mule.

Behind her, the men had emerged from the forest but by then they backed off, knowing she was quickly approaching the town. Seeing the town lights brought her relief, and she slowed her mule to a trot. Passing through town, she tugged her hat down and hoped her jacket could hide her tan skin.

Despite the natives still inhabiting the area, they were not greeted kindly in the towns. She was thankful for the darkness and hoped the law wouldn't harass her.

She made it out of town with little trouble but knew she wasn't safe just yet.

"Come on, boy," she whispered. "Let's find a place to make camp. No one else will come looking for us, I hope."

* * *

She huddled up to a pitiful fire with her mule close to her. She thought of removing his saddle but worried they'd run into trouble again. Because of this, she fed him extra treats. Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn't eaten in some time now and she wished she still had her old bow. She cursed her sister for getting rid of it and although she had a rusty cattleman revolver, she couldn't waste precious bullets. At least her trusty steed could graze, but that wouldn't be possible once they got to New Austin. _If_ they got there…

Her stomach made noises again as hunger stabbed at her belly. For a moment, she thought of turning around and heading back home. A sickening feeling of large hands touching her in places no one had a right too quickly made her dismiss that idea. She was _never_ going back. Not with that man thinking he owned her.

She hugged herself and shivered, not from the cold, but from the terrible memory of _him_ getting rough with her when she told him she wasn't interested in his marriage proposal. When she went to her sister, she expected love and support but she was sadly mistaken.

"_But, Quiet Rain, he… he hurt me! He told me no one would believe me if I-" _

"_My name is no longer Quiet Rain. It's Elizabeth," her sister scolded, cutting off her sentence. _

_She sniffed and wiped her eyes. "That's all you got from that? Did you not hear what I said? Joe hurt me!" She showed her sister her reddened forearm. "Look! He said it could be worse if I didn't… if I…" Her voice trailed as tears spilled from her eyes. _

_Elizabeth's eyes narrowed at the crying girl. "Morning Dove, I will not have you ruining a good man's reputation or this opportunity for your brother-in-law. Now stop lying and get ready for bed." _

_Dread crept into Morning Dove. Her own sister didn't believe her nor did she care. Elizabeth stood up and smoothed out the skirt of her dress. Morning Dove's stomach twisted into painful knots and her heart drummed in her ears._

"_At least consider his proposal," the older sister continued. "His family is well off and you will be too. Think about it, okay?" Her voice was soft and sweet, but Morning Dove wouldn't buy it. _

"_I'm not doing it… I can't!" _

_The older sister scowled. "You're selfish. Absolutely selfish!" _

_Elizabeth stormed out of the room, leaving Morning Dove feeling hurt and betrayed. _

She left home that night with the realization that no one could help her. She knew it was time she took control of her own life. The moment she left the White's homestead, she was on her own. But now she was out of food and somewhere out there, a wolf howled.

Huddling closer to her pitiful fire, she drew her knees to her chest and lowered her head. She quietly cried, ignoring the tears freezing her face. For the first time in her life, she felt alone with no place to go. She continued to cry, not caring if it was self-pity or not. If her sister was here, now she'd tell Morning Dove to dry her tears and get over it. Well now, she could cry without shame and Elizabeth could go jump in a lake.

When her tears ran dry, she didn't feel any better and curled up in her bedroll. As she watched the fire dance, sleep overtook her fear of what was out there and she dozed off. She dreamed she was in a wedding dress and the groom stood beside her with a big grin on his face that made her skin crawl.

The next morning fat droplets of rain rudely awakened her. She yelped as her bedroll was quickly soaked. She crawled out and rolled it back up, tied it to her horse and grabbed a leather coat off her mule. Once she climbed on, she commanded her mount to gallop away.

Hooves slashed puddles of mud as she raced into Tall Trees. Lucky galloped down a steep and twisted trail, slipping occasionally along the way. Rumors of gangs hiding about in the area worried her, but she hoped if they moved fast enough their run-ins with them would be slim. The canopy of trees worked as an umbrella against the rain as she navigated her mule through the dense forest. Seeing the Great Plains coming into view, she slowed Lucky to a lope. By the time they left Tall Trees, the dark clouds broke apart, and the sun brightened the plains.

She stood in the middle of the plains, looking all around her. Long ago, the Great Plains belonged to her people before the government forced them to live on what was now Hennigan's Stead. She was born there long ago but had few memories of it and even those were fuzzy. As she walked through the area, she tried to imagine what it was like to live here. Her mother used to tell her stories of the Great Plains back when Blackwater was much smaller and the government had less influence on the area.

Now there wasn't a trace of where her people once lived except for an abandoned school by the river. Her people were somewhere to the southwest on a reservation with little resources. She hoped they were well. There was a place called Beecher's Hope that her mother told her about. The area was once a place where the Apaches made their camp. Morning Dove thought of visiting the place but she heard that someone had bought the land and was hoping to start up a farm. The last thing she needed was getting shot at.

The longer she stayed here, the sadder and emptier she felt. There wasn't any reason to linger, so she picked up the reins and kept going.

Half an hour later she was at the Montana Ford, refilling her canteen and letting Lucky get his fill of water and cool his hooves. Splashing water on her face gave her relief, and she felt better than before. Digging into her saddlebag, she retrieved two apples. One for her and one for Lucky.

By noon, she was foraging for berries at Hennigan's Stead and made camp close to a large ranch. She tossed her soaked sleeping bag over a low-hanging branch to dry in the warm sun. While her mule grazed, she stretched out over a warm rock and closed her eyes.

For the first time in days, she felt at peace.

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A Gila monster roasted over the fire. The smell made her mouth water. Meat became a rarity after leaving home. She could go weeks eating plants and whatever the general store owner in Armadillo threw out. Unfortunately, last week the owner of said store chased her off and went as far as smashing his discarded goods in the dirt so she couldn't eat them. Since leaving home, she'd lost weight. Maybe too much. She was always on the small side, but now she looked as though the wind could blow her away. There was some luck on her side, however. A few days earlier, she'd come across a dead man with a satchel that contained some essentials. After looting the body(something that grossed her out), she quickly fled the scene with her new items in hand.

Now she had extra bullets, a box of crackers, a tin of cookies, a bottle of rum, and horse reviver. With the meat in her belly, she felt things were finally turning around for her.

Taking out her map, she looked over which direction she could take. With the freedom to go where she wanted, she suddenly felt overwhelmed with it and didn't know which path to take.

She put the map away, assuming she'd have it all figured out by the time she got some sleep.

* * *

She walked up to the steps of the house; The boards creaking beneath her. The porch railings wobbled as she grabbed one for support. She quickly let go and continued to make her way inside. The door's rusty hinges squeaked as she slowly pushed the door open.

Poking her head inside, she looked around for any sign of life but the cobwebs and layers of dust on the furniture told her this place was long abandoned. Morning Dove entered the house and quickly found a few cans of peas on the table. Stuffing them in her bag she moved on to the cabinet under the sink.

She didn't find much except for hair pomade. Moving on to the other cabinets, she found a box of biscuits and a can of strawberries. On the fireplace mantel, she took a flask of moonshine and bitters. She picked up a framed photograph of two men holding up a large jackrabbit. Turning it over found the names, Sam and Earl. She placed the photo back and turned her attention to the corner shelf.

Scanning the books, she found nothing that sounded interesting but came across something called hair tonic. She eyed the bottle curiously before deciding to take it with her.

There was nothing else of use here. Adjusting the strap on her bag, she decided to leave. As she turned, the front door burst open, and she came face to face with a man holding a shotgun. She froze in place at the sight of the man. He was gray-haired, lanky, and menacing with those cold green eyes. His beard was long and greasy, making her sick just looking at it.

"What are you doin' here?" he growled.

Morning Dove opened her mouth to speak but all she could manage was a squeak. He stepped forward, his gun aimed at her. She took a step back, her heart drumming wildly. Was he really going to kill her?

"I was just leaving," she said.

"You're not goin' anywhere."

Her breathing came out ragged and she shook like a leaf. She backed into a nightstand. Reaching back, she felt something smooth and wide, then touched the wick. _Maybe if I could…_

The angry man lined her up in his sights. It was time to act. Grabbing the candle, she flung with all her strength, striking him in the head. She spun on her heels, shoved the back door open, and ran down the steep hill. She whistled for Lucky, then tripped and skidded down the rest of the way. When Lucky trotted up beside her, she scrambled on just as the man came charging out of the house. She barely had time to secure her feet in the saddle, when he shot at her. Lucky reared up and slammed hooves down before racing off.

Morning Dove wrapped her arms around his neck as they fled to far away from the tiny house and angry man.

The next morning, she rode for Hennigan's Stead at a steady pace. The sun was shining brightly that day as she and Lucky galloped along. The weather was mild with a cool breeze sweeping through the plains. It was the first sign that autumn was taking hold of the area.

She saw riders in the distance and pulled her hat down. They called out to her, but she stayed quiet. By now, she assumed her family had either given up, or the authorities didn't care that she was missing. She suspected the latter, as she knew that not even her brother-in-law's influence over West Elizabeth couldn't change the way people felt about Indians. That included his own family.

Seeing a thick cluster of evergreens, she guided Lucky in that direction. She knew there was a trail somewhere that led back to Tall Trees. The deeper they traveled into the woods, the cooler it became. Eventually, the land was covered in a thin layer of snow. The lower temperature was welcomed after spending the last few weeks in the hot sun.

She came to a clearing and dismounted Lucky before hitching him to a tree. After feeding him a peppermint, she left him to munch on the exposed grass. She stretched her limbs and twisted her body to pop her back.

_I've never had to ride this long before. How do those cowboys do this? _

She found a dry spot under a tree and sat down. As she nibbled on deer jerky, she took out her sketchbook and made a quick drawing of the land. On the next page, she made tiny doodles of Lucky, the angry man, and a tabby cat she saw in Armadillo. When she was younger, she had dreams of becoming a famous artist, but her sister squashed it with a dose of reality.

_Stop thinking about home! You're finally free! _

But was she really? Was fighting for survival every waking moment real freedom? Was constantly looking over your shoulder freedom? She never expected life to be easy, but not knowing where your next meal was coming from couldn't be seen as living.

There was a sudden feeling of emptiness inside her chest. _When will this feeling go away? Will I ever be happy again? _She drew a heart with a crack in it and shut her journal. She yawned and closed her eyes, hoping her dreams could take her to a place where all her troubles melted.

As she felt herself drift away, she was jolted back awake by the sound of gunshots and squealing. Jumping to her feet, she raced toward Lucky and quickly jumped on. Terror clawed at her chest as she whirled the mule around in the commotion's direction. More squealing, another gunshot. Someone must have encountered a hog. A shudder passed through her, thinking of the damage they could do. She spurred Lucky, leaving white powder behind them.

She reached the top of a hill that overlooked a clearing. Down below, she saw a man dressed in denim struggling to stand as a large hog streaked with blood charged him. She was about to cry out for him to look out but it was too late. The hog's tusks penetrated his leg and sliced his flesh open. Morning Dove gasped in horror as the beast's snout turned crimson. She quickly drew her revolver and fired into the air. The swine looked in her direction and charged after her and Lucky. The mule side stepped away and bolted. Morning Dove hung on with everything she had, praying Lucky wouldn't buck her. She looked at the man who sat up quickly, twisted his body her way and emptied his last two bullets into the hog. It let out a shriek before collapsing in the snow.

She regained control of Lucky, dismounted, and raced to the injured man. He stared at her for a moment, his icy gaze blank. He opened his mouth to speak but lost consciousness, falling back into the snow. When Morning Dove reached him, her stomach churned at all the surrounding blood. She looked down at his wound and gasped at the bone gleaming at her. Blood was ebbing fast, and she needed to get him help. She grabbed his arm and rolled him onto his back.

He had two scars on each side of his face with one across the bridge of his nose. His beard was not a full one but grew around his jawline.

"Mister, are you okay?" _Of course, he's not okay, just look at him. _

His eyelids fluttered and he let out a groan. "My cabin," he rasped.

"Your cabin? Which way?"

He lifted his hand and pointed to the west. "Up on… that… that hill."

She looked in the direction he was pointing and saw the smoke. Now it was a question of how she was going to get him there. Tearing a strip of cloth from her dress, she tied his leg above the cut. She looped one arm around her neck, helping him to his knees.

"My horse isn't far," she whispered. "Hold on, alright? You're going to make it."

But as she struggled to help him onto Lucky, she wasn't sure.


End file.
